


this ain't a romcom

by glacecherie



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: (but not really), Accidental Marriage, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:20:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22677835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glacecherie/pseuds/glacecherie
Summary: "It won't be funny, shithead." He bites out, frustration coming out of nowhere. "You should be freaking out. It'll be weird and I don't want to get scratched because we recreated the Runaway Bride or some shit."Nolan peers up at him all dumb, or like he just had nothing to say. His jawline is still frustratingly sharp and doesn't have enough teeth marks.It's probably real weird that he wants to bite Nolan's cheek, just a nip, then move down, find somewhere to mark - christ, he wants to tell himself to fuck off, he is not gonna be horny this stressed."That's not the plot of that film." Nolan replies, because he's fucking insane.
Relationships: Travis Konecny/Nolan Patrick
Comments: 3
Kudos: 79





	this ain't a romcom

Travis is the first awake. Technically awake. He feels more like he's been brought back from the dead, and he's drooled on the pillow which is definitely gross and his head, christ. Ow.

He doesn't feel sick though, which is welcome, and at least he isn't doing those awful hot/cold sweats of someone who should probably have had 10 fewer drinks. It's not such a welcome realisation that his left arm is numb as shit, but it's probably Patty who - yeah, jesus christ - feels maybe 100lbs heavier when he's slumped against him like a corpse. They're both mostly naked, but that's nothing new. He's more bothered that he's got a stiff neck and cramp in his limbs from contorting himself so that Nolan doesn't have to sleep in the wet spot. Fuck, speaking of -

The regret the hits him is almost worse that any nausea.

Travis knew it was like, irresponsible to invite Nolan out, because he was well enough to come on roadies but not play, so that should have meant drinking and shit was off the cards too, but -

He's looked _sad_. Travis is the responsible one here, and he seriously said _fuck off_ to actually being sensible, all because Nolan looked frustrated and sad in the cracks of whatever optimistic mask he'd been wearing all day. So he'd said _sure_.

And then things spiralled, but at least he has his memory in order up until then. It had felt sneaky and good to creep out after curfew even when he knew it shouldn't. They hadn't been caught. The hotel wall looks nearly the same, though he's pretty sure the painting on the wall looked different before. Do they change paintings along with the sheets here? It is swanky, he guesses.

He wriggles out from beneath Nolan and -

There's red pieces stuck to his arm, alarming enough he doesn't feel the sick feeling-coming-back sensation in his arm, because his first though is _blood?_

Then he twigs. Those are rose petals. Their luggage isn't here. There's a ripped open box of chocolates with bites out of half of them, a few foil wrappings on the floor.

Also maybe the logic he'd tried to string together of a hotel being expensive enough to _swap out the generic art_ is _insane_. Right. Don't panic.

Travis walks a few steps back in a daze, like he needs to get a zoomed out look at things. The towels thrown on the floor were twisted up to look like swans. The sheets on the bed have a deep red blanket on them, not the grey one in their actual, proper room. Out of the window, the view is still the same, just a different angle, so -

Same hotel, different room. There's drunk logic there, but. This doesn't look like the kind of drunk logic he's used to. Don't you have to like, specifically request this shit? He'd done it for an ex and she was thrilled, real "gonna eat you alive" horny happy (score) until she discovered a rose allergy and he had to very carefully get every last goddamn rose petal out of there - and he'd gone all out. There were fucking hundreds.

He's maybe freaking out.

The only bit of sweet relief is that he's not wearing a ring, and this isn't Vegas. They probably haven't gotten married.

That shouldn't be a thing he's finding relief in.

He's definitely freaking out.

The toothbrushes not plastic packaging by the sink have tiny hearts on them.

The nausea kicks in like a brick to the face, and he spends the next ten minutes throwing up into the sink, because the toilet was 2 steps too far.

 _Fuck_.

-

On the plus side, his gross retching means that he doesn't have to really awkwardly wake Patty. He's all "sat upright" and "fiddling on his phone like he isn't losing his mind" like a fucking _psychopath_.

"So." He breaks the ice with, and grips onto the tumbler of water he's holding for dear life. "This is weird."

He's thankful it's plastic. His mouth stings from the toothpaste.

"Huh?" Patty says, sounding even more like he's swallowed gravel than usual, and stupid to boot.

"This. Whatever this is. It's weird."

Nolan flicks an errant petal.

"It'll be funny when we're not dying, bud." He grunts, lurching to one side until he's laid down again at a weird angle. His eyes are closed and Travis hates the bit of him that wants to tell him to get some sleep and the he shouldn't strain his neck that way in case it sets off a tension headache that migrates. Travis presses his teeth together until it feels like they're creaking.

He shouldn't sleep, he should be up and suffering and helping Travis get them back to their room before his - shit - 8am alarm. That gives them 40 minutes, but in this state? It'll be tight.

His temples hurt and there's nothing non-alcoholic in the mini bar save for tomato juice, which he isn't even going to touch.

"It won't be funny, fuckhead." He bites out, frustration coming out of nowhere. "You should be freaking out. It'll be weird and I don't want to get scratched because we recreated the Runaway Bride or some shit."

Nolan peers up at him all dumb or like he just had nothing to say. His jawline is still frustratingly sharp and doesn't have enough teeth marks.

It's probably real weird that he wants to bite Nolan's cheek, just a nip, then move down, find somewhere to mark - christ, he wants to tell himself to _fuck off_ , he is not gonna be horny this stressed.

"That's not the plot of that film." He says, because he's insane.

Travis makes a wounded noise, because seriously, what the fuck.

"Are you still drunk?" He asks, terse.

"Oh. No, I stopped drinking before you." Nolan replies, but he's still rubbing at his temples.

"Thanks for cutting me off in time."

"Cutting you off? You're not a kid."

Travis fumes silently.

"No, but I was doing a _dumb kid thing_ because of you, so the least you can do is help me work out what happened and how we get back to our room so we can pretend we don't reek of booze at breakfast."

He's glad Claude owes him from the time he'd looked after his kid for an hour. Is it an abuse of power to call that in on the sly? Or should they just wing it? Christ, he doesn't even know but -

Nolan can do an incredible trick with his face where it goes from neutral to livid in a blink. Usually it's one he sees if someone boards him, and Travis looks at it in close proximity over whoever's shoulder it is he's fighting on his behalf. It usually turns to something sharper around the edges and smug real quick, the kind of thing he likes to wipe off Nolan's face when he pushes him down onto his back and fucks him with Nolan's legs wound around his waist all tight.

_(Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off-)_

It doesn't shift to the Good Smile this time.

"You think I _owe_ you?"

"No! I think you need to be weirded out over this!"

Nolan breaks eye contact to glower at his lap.

"Shower's bigger here. You may as well use it." He mutters, and Travis picks up a pillow and yells into it.

It isn't a fraction as calming as it is in shitty teen movies he remembers seeing growing up. He wants to throw things, but his mom brought him up good, and they've already made too much of a mess.

"No, fuck that, we're going now."

He grabs the key, reads the number. They're only a floor below and it's still dark out. People sleep in when it's dark. Less chance of getting caught.

He's all too aware he's thinking in a constant stream of bullshit, but whatever. This is his mess. Mostly.

Nolan is still moving infuriatingly slow, and he can't even say anything about it, because he wants to look after him deep down. His teeth are gnawing into his cheek again.

"Grab your shit and let's get out of here." He snaps, pissed enough that Nolan does as he's asked without being a brat.

That should have been the first clue everything was going to get weird, in hindsight. 

**Author's Note:**

> HEY, I'm not dead, and I'm BACK with more tropes than you can shake a fucking stick at! Woo!


End file.
